


i can't tell

by fxbricxtedrexlity



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Bullying, Heavy Angst, OT4 MAMAMOO, Self-Harm, trigger warning for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fxbricxtedrexlity/pseuds/fxbricxtedrexlity
Summary: ::hyejin-centric. hyejin deals with bullying from other trainees on her own and it blooms into uglier issues during their career. OT4 mamamoo.::
Kudos: 25





	i can't tell

**Author's Note:**

>   
> a tad bit of warning before you proceed :)  
> this fic contains bullying, disturbing thoughts, and self-harm  
> if some of the warnings put you off, please press the back button now :)  
> OT4 MAMAMOO ensemble  
> i respect each and every one of the characters and real people i used in this fic
> 
> i guess that’s all, please enjoy :)  
> 

_i can’t tell_

**::**

this story is for the lovely **velahohoho**

**::**

_i live inside my own world_

_of make-believe_

_kids screaming in their cradles_

_profanities_

_some days i feel skinnier_

_than all the other days_

_and some days i can’t tell_

_if my body belongs to me_

_cradles; sub urban_

**::**

_hyejin-centric. hyejin deals with bullying from other trainees on her own and it blooms into uglier issues during their career. OT4 mamamoo._

**::**

“Be right back,” Wheein promises, squeezing Hyejin’s thigh once before standing up, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor of the practice room as she heads to the restroom. She follows her best friend with her eyes, the soft closing of a door suddenly bathing the room in deafening silence.

Hyejin tenses, feeling eyes on her, hands shaking slightly as she tries to undo the clasp of her heels.

“Heels not helping, huh?” A voice snickers from the other side of the room, two other laughs softly at the jibe. Hyejin looks over at the couch, Yongsun looking down intently at her phone, the ear holding her hair back has an earbud jammed in. She can’t hear anything. “What? Thinking of telling?”

They all know Hyejin won’t. It’s been a few months and she still hasn’t opened her mouth about this.

“Don’t you get sad?” A different voice mocks, bending forward to stretch her hamstrings with her toe against the mirror. “Everyone’s pushing the same concept with you and Wheein but she pulls it better than you ever could.”

“Yeah,” the last one agrees, flipping her hair over perfect collarbones and a perfect shoulder. They’re too perfect. Too un-Hyejin. “, the cute, girl-next-door concept can only get so far with a face like yours.”

Wheein’s laughter from outside the practice room was the girl’s cue, standing up and scoffing when Hyejin still has her head down instead of looking at them, fiddling with the straps of her heels. They move as one, strutting towards the door and announcing that they’re going to the cafeteria for a snack.

Wheein bounds inside with Byulyi on her heels. They found each other in the restroom. Byulyi eyes the empty cushion beside the eldest, laughing when Yongsun squeals.

This is it, Hyejin can tell them. Maybe they’ll take her side. Maybe they can— 

“You’re still not done?” Wheein shakes her head in mock irritation but sits down next to Hyejin. Always next to her, always on her side. “Want to grab a snack too?”

Kind, selfless Wheein. Her best friend.

She can’t tell her.

Knowing Wheein, she’ll turn down their greatest chance at a debut, pull them both out of the company; no doubt will put Hyejin first before anything else. Because that’s how Wheein is.

That’s how undeserving Hyejin is of Wheein.

At least, that’s what Hyejin thinks.

She shakes her head, finally pulling off her heels. “I’m fine.”

There’s a weight in that statement that she’s too scared to unpack; too scared to admit that she’s really not.

**::**

The high is addicting.

Their CEO praises her personally after their evaluation, a twinkle in his eye that sparks the flame in Hyejin’s chest, the warmth of it finally thawing the deep-chill in her bone driven by uncertainty with her career choice, finally feeling like she’s _doing it_ for once.

Wheein’s happy for her, of course, taking Hyejin’s happy mood and blanketing them both with it. They goof off in between breaks, feeling electric and it shows in the way they interact with a practice microphone in hand, staff in front of them with clipboards to mark their improvement.

“You’re happy,” Wheein breathes out in the space between them, sweaty foreheads pressed together as they catch their breath from dancing.

“I am.” Hyejin doesn’t doubt it. She’s _truly_ happy. Doing what she likes, seeing the improvement, doing it with her best friend just a glance or an arm span away from her reach.

“Looks good on you,” her best friend says it in a way that Hyejin falters. Why, was her sadness that easy to read? Did Wheein know? Did she notice? Did the girls say something? They are questions she knows Wheein will happily provide the answer but she’s too scared to ask.

The moment stretches on, Wheein’s eyes suddenly imploring and Hyejin _can’t breathe_.

“Woah, what’s the occasion?” It’s Byulyi’s voice, headphones now around her neck, and Hyejin cranes hers past Wheein’s shoulders and—

“It’s a concept we’re trying out,” there’s a smirk on her voice, sending a knowing glance to Hyejin and Wheein turns, too, takes in the sight of long legs in impossibly short shorts, heels, and a too-tight tank top that Hyejin never had the confidence to even imagine wearing herself. “No harm in broadening the choices, right?”

Yongsun’s lips pinch together like she doesn’t approve of what the younger girls showed up in but otherwise stays quiet, not moving from her place near the sound system.

They’re everywhere.

When Hyejin looks in the mirror, one of them cocks their smaller hips, the shorts fitting in a way it never will on Hyejin. When Hyejin drinks, another slides up beside her and she gets an unobstructed view of a chest bigger than hers. When Hyejin sits in a corner and not looking up from her phone, the sight is stamped at the back of her eyelids, mocking, a bright red neon sign that her body’s too _complex_ for that; too _not-the-standard_.

And like a balloon to a pin, Hyejin’s helpless with the way her insecurities are poked and prodded expertly.

::

They’re getting restless and Hyejin’s using it to her benefit.

She ignores them as best as she can and like a flame deprived of oxygen, they huff before walking away and leaving a trail of their sickeningly sweet perfume and perfect _perfectness_.

That’s what usually happens, anyway. But lately— 

“You sure didn’t give them a break,” Hyejin ignores her. “Must be _so_ hard to figure out a makeup style that will help you.”

_Ignore them. Ignore them. Ignore them._

A hand reaches out, yanks Hyejin’s arm so badly that she winces, finally looking at the girls in front of her and feeling unexplainable heat boiling inside of her, like molten metal being poured straight into her because she’s suddenly so _angry_.

She can punch. Her dad and uncle taught both her and Wheein before they left for Seoul. _Finger in, don’t tuck your thumb inside your fingers, firm, always aim straight_. She can punch their sickly _basic_ face in and maybe, just _maybe_ , they won’t be flawless anymore.

Her fists are already straining, aching to be used. She can do it. Just pull her shoulder back and it’ll be done.

Hyejin doesn’t know how long she stands there with her fists curled because the girls scoff, pushing past her and she doesn’t even realize that Wheein’s rounding the corner.

She’s got her head half inside her backpack, stopping short of Hyejin with a question on her face.

“What’re you doing in the middle of the hallway?”

This is a thing they do now, Hyejin noticed.

They pull out bigger words, each more poisonous than the last, and retreating as someone gets near. They’ve never tried pooling in Yongsun and Byulyi on the teasing which is something Hyejin’s grateful for. She’s grown a soft spot for the two and it’ll utterly _wreck_ her if the words were formed from their mouths and their voices.

She’s tried sticking to other trainees whenever Wheein isn’t around but she can only force herself to laugh one too many times at inside jokes that don’t include her and swooning over boys she’s never had an interest in.

Wheein pokes at her side, confusion morphing into concern.

Hyejin shakes her head and pokes at a rib, Wheein’s whine tethering in the border of pain and ticklish.

“I forgot what I had to do,” she says, going for looking sheepish. Wheein just shakes her head and pecks her cheek fondly. Hyejin follows her, too scared to be left alone.

::

Hyejin tries not to think about it too much—just focuses on her job, on what needs to be done, improved, memorized, rehearsed, need to _perfect_.

She’s not used to that; being perfect.

But that’s exactly what their CEO told them, the four of them lined up, Wheein’s pinky latched onto hers behind their backs—that they’re _perfect_.

She tries not to think about how she’s part of a debuting group because the last time she indulged in that fact, she shook so much with happiness that Wheein had to sneak them out late at night to jump in a trampoline at a public playground until they wore off their giddiness.

Things are starting to look up, starting with them getting their practice room.

Hyejin didn’t realize how little she knows of Yongsun and Byulyi until she doesn’t spend most of her day checking over her shoulder. She thinks Yongsun hates her, Wheein thinks she’s crazy for even thinking about it, and Byulyi just shrugs and tells her it’s the eldest girl’s way of showing her care.

She’s still got her mouth full from where Yongsun forced all of them to eat the sliced fruits she packed, citrus spilling from the corner of her mouth when she turns the last corner to the restroom and there she is, one of the girls.

She’s clearly on her way out, Hyejin wondering if she should turn around, march ahead, or— 

“Congrats,” it’s weird to hear _good_ words come out of her mouth for once. But then again she’s alone, no one to goad her on.

“Thanks,” Hyejin decides to just turn around and use the restroom later. She’s already got her back to the other girl when she chimes again. Hyejin bites her lips as she tries not to groan because they could’ve left it at that, a polite goodbye.

“Have fun with all those eyes on you,” she sounds a little bit bitter and a whole lot envious. Hyejin tries chanting it inside her head. _She’s just jealous, she’s just jealous, she’s just jealous._ “You’ve never been good at handling people looking at you. Take my advice and quit now.” Hyejin can’t see behind her but the girl’s perfume suddenly surges forward. “But then again, you _love_ the attention, don’t you?”

It hurts how well she can get inside of Hyejin’s head.

In the end, Hyejin doesn’t say anything. She just walks away, words ringing in her head.

**::**

Everything’s so loud.

She yanks her in-ear out, plastering herself to a silent corner until the throbbing behind her eyelids sounds less like the million frantic footsteps of makeup people, crew adjusting stage lights, managers bellowing for people to _do your goddamn job properly_.

Except that’s not the case.

Not really.

Someone pops a bottle of champagne but it sounds like a gunshot to her.

A hand on her arm tugs, softly, and Hyejin opens up. Wheein’s looking down at her with a post-performance blush high on her cheeks. There’s a lipstick mark on her cheek that vaguely resembles Hyejin’s and then she remembers that she’s the one who put that there, that the noises are of celebration, that’s she’s missing out on their group’s third anniversary.

“Sorry,” she croaks out, rolling her neck and letting Wheein place a cold water bottle to the nape of her neck. “Just needed to breathe for a bit.”

Wheein shrugs, laces their fingers, and drawing circles against the web of her thumb and forefinger. “We can stay here for a while. The unnies are getting annoying anyway.”

This is familiar, comforting even though Wheein doesn’t know the inner turmoil within her head. She thinks she got too messed up when they were younger because even though it’s been four years already and a few more from when they were training, Hyejin can’t shake off the feeling that everyone’s just waiting for her to slip up, waiting for her to make a mistake, or find one thing that’ll kick her out of the group.

The confidence she wears is genuine—like a superhero’s cape—transforming her into someone people look up to, someone making a statement and saying a big _fuck you_ to those three girls who she never heard of again.

The things she whispers to make herself feel better is what she shouts in the way she dresses, how she projects her voice when singing, how she answers in interviews.

But when the lights dim and her toes ache from being jammed in heels for hours, she can’t help the voices.

_How long can you keep this up?_

**::**

Hyejin can’t pinpoint the exact time it starts but she can remember _exactly_ what drove her to that point.

_You love the attention, don’t you?_

It hurts when people stare. It hurts when they see something and spin it off to something empowering or degrading. She’s gotten numb to the compliments, a perfected crinkle of her eye, and a bashful cover of her mouth sends the hosts swooning, spewing out more just so they make the headlines.

The eyes keep following her everywhere; juniors from their company, managers in the van checking if she’s awake enough for the paparazzi outside, lenses hovering at every damn corner of Seoul, in her own house because people won’t stop pestering her to reveal her apartment and peer inside what _Hwasa’s_ home life.

She’s so tired.

Tired of smiling, of waving, of _changing her damn apartment because people have no boundaries_.

Maybe it starts here, as she’s stripping off of her clothes, tears prickling the corner of her eyes because it’s just _too much_ , her shower curtain crinkling under her grip.

Maybe it starts here as she turns the heat up, standing under cold water until it slowly heats up and starts scalding her skin. It hurts but she can’t feel the stares.

It hurts but it’s worth that moment of emptiness, that moment of finally feeling free.

_It’s worth it_.

**::**

The feeling is addicting.

Finally, something can take her outside of her mind.

But she doesn’t have the same luxury in the middle of a showcase, legs jumping up and down under the table, lips bitten and peeled so hard that she’ll have to brush her teeth to make sure the lipstick didn’t stick.

She looks around. Wheein’s sprawled on a mat, Hyejin absentmindedly taking a blanket from a pile, draping it over her best friend. They’re the only ones left in the waiting room save for a few makeup artists and one manager watching on the television.

Rubber bands.

There’s a pack of them by the elbow of a sleeping stylist, Hyejin slipping two as she passes and settles in a dim corner, Wheein’s sleeping frame just in reach of her outstretched legs. The bands are light, unnoticeable, unassuming.

And the sting of it jerks her awake, her whole body getting attracted to that one point of pain and _oh._

Maybe that was how it started.

**::**

Pain.

That’s what it is now and it’s addicting. A year full of decline and she can’t seem to stop.

The first time she used a blade on herself, it was messy. Hyejin learned after that to avoid her wrists; they took too long to heal and even the slightest scratch rises at the surface of the skin like an untethered hot-air balloon; drawing attention and spells trouble.

Under her breasts, just above the bra wire. At the crease of where her thigh meets her hips, hidden under the panty line. Below her tattoo, below where the strap of her heels dig if she’s particularly antsy and needs to cut in the bathroom of a studio.

It’s messy, it helps.

And in the aftermath, when she’s cleaning the blood and evidence, Hyejin can’t look in the mirror.

_Have fun with all those eyes on you._

**::**

She’s also gotten better at hiding them. Buying athlete-level types of foundation so it won’t smear against her costume, letting the cuts breathe during their day-offs to speed up the healing.

No one knows.

Eyes skim over but they never linger, never see what she does.

That’s exhilarating. That feeling of finally having something to herself and no one knowing.

For the first time in years, she finally feels like she’s having control again.

**::**

It doesn’t last.

**::**

“Hey, jumpy,” Wheein rolls her eyes when Hyejin startles, the plate of sushi they’ve been sharing tipping too far on Wheein’s thighs. She catches the soy sauce in time, stops Hyejin’s hands when her best friend aggressively wipes at one drop blooming on her pants. “Leave it, it’s fine.”

Hyejin wrings her hands, anxious, but melt when Wheein leaves their food on the table in front of them to spread her arms wide.

“Sorry,” Hyejin mumbles against her chest, Wheein doing her best to keep in the spasms, feeling ticklish. “, I’m nervous, I guess.”

They’re at a showcase. Specifically Hyejin’s. It’s her first time promoting a solo song and she’s understandably nervous. Wheein cuddles her best friend closer to herself, ignoring the strong scent of hairspray, and doesn’t stop until Hyejin melts against her.

It could’ve been a few minutes or a couple of hours but they’re both groggy by the time a stylist prods at Hyejin’s shoulders and Wheein’s still half-asleep to notice how badly her best friend freezes up.

“Come on, we need to cover your bruise up.”

“Bruise?” Wheein asks, the question mark curling around a yawn. She doesn’t notice Hyejin’s pleading looks to the woman in front of them. “What bruise?”

“Just,” Hyejin interrupts, standing up from the couch and dropping the blanket on Wheein’s lap. “, caught a stray wire on set. No biggie. But it needs to be covered in case the shots get too close, you know?”

Hyejin presses a kiss against the crown of Wheein’s head, draping the blanket over a half-asleep frame gently before she heads to the seat in front of a giant mirror.

The stylist is new, clearly arrogant, and knows too much.

“Now,” her voice drips with fake sweetness, pushing on Hyejin’s shoulders a little bit too much as she sits. “, thought about what I told you earlier?”

The stylist caught the unmistakable line inside Hyejin’s wrists just as she smears concealer over it and Hyejin’s panic at her _seeing_ didn’t help matters at all. Blackmail, that’s what it was, the woman pulling up her phone and waving a brand new luxury bag on the screen in exchange for keeping mum about Hyejin’s secret.

_God_ , what did she do to deserve this?

Hyejin bites her lip, wincing when the woman gives her a pointed look before her eyes land on Wheein who’s sleeping a few feet away. “Don’t, please.” She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Wheein _knows_. She’s been good at keeping it to herself for years now and one snooping stylist won’t change that. Not now. “I’ll do it.”

The woman smiles, all perfect teeth and perfect skin. Hyejin hates her.

“Perfect.” She fiddles with different makeup brushes, leaning close to Hyejin. “Glad you see things my way.”

Because what other choice did she have?

**::**

“Oh my god,” Byulyi feels a sympathetic tug in her stomach as Hyejin heaves again over the toilet, pressing a hand harshly against her face to stop the bile from rising. “Yeah, that’s it Hyejin-ah, just let it out.”

They’ve been drinking, celebrating the new year and the new decade among themselves. Hyejin’s got another solo song coming up and they want to get the celebration out of the way before her schedule picks up fully.

“I’m never drinking again,” Hyejin moans from where she’s got her head half-buried inside the toilet and Byulyi cringes, thinking about how hard it’ll be to wipe Hyejin down later before bed.

“Sure,” Byulyi agrees easily, helping the younger woman up on her feet to splash water on her face, handing a toothbrush after. “Or maybe we can just, I don’t know, drink to have fun and not get smashed?”

The effect of Hyejin’s glare through the mirror is softened with her disoriented gaze, Byulyi just rubbing smooth circles across a back and the inside of Hyejin’s wrists— 

Bumps.

Byulyi decides to wait, wiping down Hyejin’s arms with a warm cloth and changing her shirt, tucking her in her and Wheein’s shared bed. She makes sure the younger woman’s already asleep, snoring when she peels back the covers from Hyejin’s arm.

They’re thin, looking like creases on a human’s skin, but the _bump_ and texture of tougher skin suggest another story.

Her knees ache from kneeling beside the bed, not trusting herself to get up just yet.

This is Hyejin.

A woman she raised better than she could for her two younger sisters.

A woman she saw grow up right before her two eyes.

She seems to sober up instantly, slowly walking towards the door as to not make too much noise, going back to the living room of the Airbnb they rented to the sight of Wheein swatting away the hand of Yongsun who’s known to be affectionate when drunk.

“Wheein-ah,” her voice is soft as if it were Hyejin’s sleeping form she was talking to. “, can we take a walk outside?”

Wheein’s always had a higher tolerance out of all of them, quickly catching on to Byulyi’s serious demeanor and nods.

“Let’s get unnie to bed, first.”

The chill outside makes them shudder, Byulyi wrapping a fist around the keys inside her pocket just to ground herself. Wheein doesn’t push her to talk immediately, just walks stride for stride, and when they reach the edge of the property, they both watch Byulyi’s breath swirl in the air.

“I saw,” she doesn’t know what those are. Lines, sure, but are they recent? Are they still happening? Scars? Healing? She clears her throat. “Hyejin’s cutting herself. Or past tense, I don’t know. They’re healed. Nothing looks fresh. But it—it felt _real_. Like I can feel the pain pulsing underneath. Or maybe I’m just drunk but—”

“I know.”

Byulyi’s head snaps to the side so fast. _“What?”_

Wheein’s frame expands as she takes in a deep breath, hunching over as the air rushes out of her lungs, defeated. “I noticed the same ones before. Two on the right, one on the left, right?” Byulyi nods dumbly, Wheein mirrors her. “No new ones, then.”

Byulyi struggles with words, too many questions and lectures in her mind but she settles with: “Since when?”

“Twit.”

“ _Fuck_.”

Wheein shakes her head like she can’t believe it too. “She’s got a new stylist that time talking about a bruise and she—unnie you didn’t see how _scared_ she looked. At me knowing, at the stylist knowing, or something else, I don’t know.” She shudders, blaming it on the cold, but Byulyi knows her better. The arms she’s got around herself is to keep herself together, clearly feeling alone at knowing something about her best friend and knowing how much it scares Hyejin to speak up about it. “I checked when she slept over after her promotions. And I—I didn’t know what to do. I cried to her and blamed it on my period because _I don’t know what to do_.”

The mountains in front of them look lovely, their wind blowing softly so that the conversation gets trapped in nature, their little secret.

“Do you think there’s more?”

Wheein’s face hardens. “Yes.”

And if there’s someone who can help them, it’s Yongsun.

**::**

Yongsun isn’t a woman who stays still after something so important gets divulged to her.

Hyejin opens the door of her apartment a day after they got back from the mountains to Yongsun wearing her silly patterned pajamas and a steaming bag of tteokbokki in one hand.

“Unnie?” Hyejin gets pushed aside, their leader beelining for the kitchen like it’s hers and busies herself with serving the food. “Unnie, you do realize that it’s 1 AM, right?”

Yongsun looks up. “And?”

“I need to sleep?”

A hand waves her off dismissively. “We both know you’ll be awake until 4. Don’t deny it.”

Hyejin shrugs, turns the TV on to the last show they watched together just to fill in the silence. The couch dips when Yongsun joins her, two bowls split together and a can of coke for each.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” She says it as the next episode loads.

It’s sudden, Hyejin raising an eyebrow with a rice cake halfway dangling from her mouth, but she nods. “I know that.”

Yongsun’s looking at her intently, a little _too_ knowing. “I mean it.”

“Unnie,” Hyejin takes both of their food and puts it away, placing a hopefully placating palm against Yongsun’s knees. “, what’s this about?”

Her wrist is captured softly, Yongsun’s touch seeking and—

“It’s really there,” her voice ends with a sob wracked from her lungs, suddenly crumpling with Hyejin’s wrists cradled against her chest. “Oh, Hyejin. It’s really there.”

The room feels like it’s closing in, her vision feels like it’s dimming at the edges. Yongsun’s shuddering breath against her skin feels a whole lot like a hurricane knocking on a fragile window and Hyejin _breaks_.

She sobs, ugly and aching, ears picking up Yongsun shushing her gently, feels hands cradle her head and move her body so she’s got her head pressed in the cave of Yongsun’s embrace.

It’s warm, safe, and she cries for what feels like years worth of pain.

“It’s okay, I’m here for you. We’ll talk it through, okay?”

She doesn’t flinch hen Hyejin wipes her face at the bottom of her pajamas, just continues holding the younger woman until her sobs stop.

“How’d you know?”

Yongsun reached forward to get the hair off of her face, pressing a kiss against Hyejin’s forehead; soft and _there_. “Byulyi and Wheein.” Hyejin can’t help the whimper that escapes her lips. _Wheein knows_. “She didn’t know what to do. And that’s why you have two unnies for, okay? To come to us if you don’t know what to do. We’re always here.”

She just wants the night to end. To wake up and not deal with this. To go back and maybe stand up for herself.

“They’re outside,” Yongsun whispers. “I told them I’d talk to you first and make sure before they come in.”

It seems inevitable no matter how much Hyejin wants to crawl away. Yongsun looks at her with nothing but support when she straightens her spine and wipes her tears away. It does nothing to hide the fact that she’s been crying ugly, but her steps don’t falter.

Wheein and Byulyi are sitting on the top step of the stairs, both hurrying to their feet when the door opens. It’s Wheein who barrels forward, wrapping all four limbs around Hyejin and they fall to the floor like that, both crying instantly.

The pain on her chest from crying hurts, her eyes hurt from rubbing them raw with tissue, her nose hurt from blowing too much, and yet— 

She feels lighter.

Better.

“I feel like I can’t tell,” she admits, feeling three other bodies pressed against her.

All next to her. All on her side.

“We’re ready to listen. We’re here for you.”

Maybe it’s the words, the reassurance, the way she’s tired of brushing it off like it’s not a big deal. Hyejin nods.

This is where her healing starts.

**::**

**end.**

**::**

since y’all made it to the end, please please _please_ talk to someone or seek professional help if you’re going through something

my DMs are open ALWAYS and don’t hesitate to open up

wear yo masks, wash yo hands, and goodluck with today’s election!

thank you again for the lovely **velahohoho** for this!

follow me on twitter: [**rexwrites**](https://twitter.com/rexwrites) coz why not?

thank you and have a good one! 

**Author's Note:**

> **follow the link/s on my[ twitter ](https://twitter.com/rexwrites/status/1341058168483315712?s=20)for updates and if you want to be my friend! :D **


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